


Shards of Happiness

by goldenslumber



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenslumber/pseuds/goldenslumber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He does not know how it started. Probably the squires, it's always well to blame them. Young boys as they are. What he does know is that the day is glorious; the sun, strong and bright, reflects off the fresh layer of snow on the ground as a dazzling splay of white gems, and Pia has just gotten Ilyn Payne in the face with a ball of ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shards of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> This was written from a prompt in the Jaime/Brienne Comment Fic-a-thon. Enjoy.

He does not know how it started. Probably the squires, it's always well to blame them. Young boys as they are. What he does know is that the day is glorious; the sun, strong and bright, reflects off the fresh layer of snow on the ground as a dazzling splay of white gems, and Pia has just gotten Ilyn Payne in the face with a ball of ice.

She shouts out at the dark look Payne sends her way, ducking behind a few trees before she reaches Peck, slinging two loving around his shoulders, just broadening in manhood, and swinging behind his back. Pia watches over his shoulder as Peck aims his own snowball at the man lumbering their way – Jaime watches, wondering if Payne will stoop to throwing snow, or just draw a sword. Peck dips out, probably thinking the same and at first he latches his hands on Pia's forearms wrapped around his neck, dragging her along, but once it becomes clear he won't make it, he lets her slip from his fingers and sprints away from her, shouting, “Abandon wench!”

“Josmyn!” Pia shouts after the squire.

“That wasn't very nicely done!” Jaime calls out from his place leaning into a nearby tree. He stoops and struggles to make a proper snowball between stump and hand, keeping a close time-watch on the steps it would take for Payne to get at Pia. She dances from tree to tree, gripping the rough bark, swinging herself around them and swerving for another. Once, she nearly slips and Payne reaches out a hand and gropes for the edge of her soaking dress, missing barely.

Jaime takes aim, slinking closer – knowing his aim, he will miss – but before he can fling the snowball, another one comes crashing into the back of Payne's head. He whips around, looking for the thrower. Peck shrugs at him from where he stands. Little Lew Piper is still hunkered down behind a small mound of snow he's patted and piled. Podrick is smiling dimly and Jaime follows the boy's eyes to a figure some paces to the right; stooped to pick up another handful of white, Brienne's hands move quickly to make more ammunition and when she comes back up, her eyes zone in on Peck.

Jaime shouts out a straggled warning. She still gets the kid at the neck.

Payne wanders back into the small clearing of space between the cluster of trees, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword as Pia's laughter rings out from behind him. “That's what you get,” Pia says beneath a palm, directed at Peck. Brienne and Pia share a glance across the opening – Jaime feels an alliance forming.

Something hits Jaime from behind, sending a spray of crystals over his face and hair until he is sputtering. He whirls to catch a wisp of Podrick running back toward Brienne. Her mouth is pressed into a line, but her eyes are smiling at her squire, as water drips from the fringe over Jaime's forehead and onto his nose.

Piper hurls a snowball at the Maid of Tarth, who dodges it. Peck is beside Piper in moments, helping him bulk up his snow-wall, glancing nervously at Pia who is kneeling beside a tree, close by, laboring over the snow, making one snowball after another. That's what Jaime needs. Snow melts between his fingers, trickling away, from holding it for too long. He could dash toward Pia and make common cause against Peck, but Payne is still in the middle of everyone, watching with narrowed eyes, waiting for someone to dare hit him again. Jaime decides not to. He gets enough of Ilyn's blows when they dance late in the night. That aside he needs _someone_ on his team, other than Little Lew Piper.

The wench is no where to be seen. Podrick throws two snowballs at Piper and Peck, but they duck low. Pia bounces one between her hands, contemplating, and she meets Jaime suspicious stare across the way. He curls his mouth into a smile that is meant to be appeal. She laughs, opened mouth, flashing everyone the ugly mouth, but tossing her head back, exposing her lovely white neck; there is the briefest flicker of her eyes behind his back.

Jaime turns to get a mouthful of ice. He throws his slush in reflex and misses. Not for lack of trying, it'd been heading straight for Brienne's chest before a figure slips between them, catches the wench round the waist and pulls her round a tree, back pressing into the trunk. Jaime can't see Brienne's face, nor hear what she says to Hyle Hunt pinning her there, but he hears Hunt's reply, “Just protecting my lady.” Anyone would have taken that as a dig in Peck's direction, only the squire cannot hear from where he sits and something about the smarmy smile on Hyle's face digs straight into _Jaime's_ side.

Brienne throws a forearm against Hunt's chest and bars him out of her way before heading away, in Pia's direction. Hunt and Jaime stoop for a handful of snow at the same time, but despite a hurried fumble Jaime can't form the ball faster and he is forced to drop it and make for cover. Podrick gets Jaime twice on the back and once on the arm before he can plant himself between Piper and Peck, stump resting against the top of the decently tall wall of snow, and the other hand going straight for their stock pile of snowballs.

He's much more useful there, with Piper scooping armfuls onto their defense and Peck keeping a steady stream of ammunition. Pod is forced to retreat around the edge of a stump, hunched and covering his head, from the rain of snow Jaime and Peck have got on him. Jaime searches the trees. There is a sound of Pia's squeal, but she is no where in sight, and the same goes for the wench and Hunt. A stray snowball falls through the air and cracks against Payne's knee. Pia is suddenly there, at the edge of the forest, pointing a finger at Hyle who is frantically working toward her, pointing back. Brienne dogs silently out of the trees a little ways away, eyes and goal on Podrick. Jaime measures the chances and hurls the snow in his hand, not bothering to duck and hide when the wench swings around to see who has just hit her. They catch eyes. He grins.

Two in a row, fast and stinging, snowballs take Jaime in the cheek, then his neck when he moves to protect his eyes. The skin is ruby and raw, but Hyle is booming with amusement. Brienne has slipped into her place beside Podrick, muttering – _talking strategy._

Jaime turns to his squires. “Focus on the wench and Pod. I've got Hunt. Payne will cover Pia.” He turns and calls out at Payne, “Isn't that right?”

There is a grunt, a whisper of steel on leather, and a sword is out. Jaime feels an itching to reach for his, but picks up a snowball instead. Hunt eyes the weapon, ceases the pointing and makes a dive in Pod and Brienne's direction. Jaime throws five at him and misses all. The wench stands, turns about to face the situation, hand on hilt – Hyle reaches out and takes that hands into his and tugs her back to the ground to join him and the squire behind the stump.

Jaime doesn't remove his eyes from their tangled pale fingers. A fatal mistake, because Pia has managed to distract Peck with the lifting of her dress in a whirl of movement, pushing him over. She manages to kick down half of Piper's work, while stealing the snowballs and flinging them all in Payne's direction. The man deflects with his swords, the insubstantial balls of specks breaking against the metal in a puff of white, raining down at his feet. Payne chases after Pia – moving faster than Jaime has ever considered he could – and he catches the girl under the arm, just as she reaches the stump. Gods, she squeals. Peck instantly rises and makes to rescue her. “Turncloak!” Jaime shouts after him, dovetailing the snow him and Piper manage to toss.

Podrick is there first, pushing Pia in the stomach, out of Payne's grip and into the snow. She scrambles up and toward the rest of her team; Brienne is watching Podrick and Payne, but Hyle still has her hand and uses it to coax her away, dragging her some paces into the trees, disappearing behind the blur of trunks.

Pod's sword is not a greatsword such as Payne's, but the boy only needs to block two ringing blows before Peck hails three armfuls of snow at the executioner's back. Pia roots for him; Peck's smile is proud, until Payne swings around at him, pock-face dark. Jaime has a feeling he's enjoying the fear that flits in the squire's eyes.

“Watch the wall, Piper,” Jaime says when he pushes himself to his feet and racks his eyes over the trees for movement or color. Hunt is there momentarily, gone, and then pops up beside Pia who is leaning around the edge of a tree, panting, red faced, grinning. _Where's the wench?_ He stoops for snow as he slinks around to the other edge of the trees, careful that Hunt and Pia don't note him – Peck and Pod take turns drawing Payne after them, bouncing off each other, too busy to notice the Lannister on the prowl.

In the trees, the others become a muffled noise. Where there isn't snow there is mud, and the plants are all bare of their leaves, branches weighed down by snow in their place. Frosted bark thaws beneath the ghost of his right hand when he draws it against the wood, peering left and right. There is a blitz of movement on his right, he twists and the wench is already about to hit him. Jaime throws up his stump. “I've nothing!”

A lurch of her wrist twists away and she lowers her hand to his surrender. The hand behind Jaime's back tightens its grip and the snowball gets Brienne square on the nose. She sputters and spits, “You said–”

“Do you always believe the enemy?” Jaime asks, slipping behind trees and dodging ever clumsy scoop of ice particles Brienne continues to dispense, moving after him. “That'll get you killed one day.”

Her answers comes in a spray of white across his shoulder.

Jaime breaks away, turning to face the clearing again and is surprised at the sight before him. “Piper, I told you to watch the wall!” He is only half joking, as another ball smacks into the back of his head. Payne has abandoned his sword to lay in the snow, referring to the pliable white stuff on the ground; Peck's got Pia slung over a shoulder, she is kicking and he is running away from Payne; Piper is cornered between two trees by Hyle and Podrick.

“Looks like my army is winning,” Brienne comments, trudging up behind him; she is not smiling, but her eyes are brighter than they have been in a very long time.

“We'll see about that.” Jaime goes for Piper's rescue. The wench is after Payne.

Once he gets there he focuses all his attention on Hunt. Turning the man on him. The two are stumbling around the center, throwing mercilessly. Jaime is missing every time, too, and he grows more and more frustrated, taking too many blows himself. Hyle is too pleased.

Until there is the sharp sing of steel on steel and their heads whip to the side. Hunt's sword if drawn in an instant, watching the wench and mute swing at each other – no. _She isn't fighting_ , Jaime knows, by her stance, her expression, the way her feet guide the way Payne is pushing her. Brienne parries with Payne, and Hunt glares at the man. _Fool_ , Jaime thought toward him, throwing snow and missing by a few inches, _doesn't he see what she's doing?_

Plainly not.

Brienne allows Payne to get her against a tree. There is a large arching swing from the executioner, and instead of moving her blade to kiss his, the wench elbows back the hilt of her sword, and slips to the side as a tumble of falling snow _thuds_ over the man's head. She is well pleased with herself, and a clacking issues from Payne as he sits up, shoving away the cold and wet, the sound hoarse.

Hunt reluctantly sheathes his sword. There is a flash of something on his face as Brienne glances his way and Jaime mislikes it. Hunt's grin is smothered by the first snowball Jaime manages to hit him with since the war began. In response, her laughter is louder and fuller than Pia's girlish tittering. The sound draws a warmth from Jaime's chest and it crawls up his throat, swells in his mouth, and spreads sweetly through the sudden, uncontrolled flit of a smile on his face.

He doesn't know how it started. Probably from that light in her face when she smiles, it's always well to blame that. His wench as she is. What he does know is that the day is glorious; his fingers are stiff and frozen, Peck and Pia are behind a tree locked against each other's lips, Podrick is teaching Piper the block he'd used against Payne, Hyle and Payne are picking ice from their ears and hair, and Brienne is moving across the clearing toward him, hands up in surrender, the remains of mirth dancing in those sapphire eyes.


End file.
